Wednesday December 25, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

Dad in his tatty pyjamas, and Sam.

Christmas Day. Oh, what memories. We woke at 8, and lay abed with cups of tea. Dad joined us in his tatty pyjamas. Down to open Samuel's presents. It was the start of a magical day for him. He was as good as gold throughout. He found a large Postman Pat car from Winchester, and we gave him a wooden tool kit with a hammer, pegs and spanners, &c. Dad put the turkey in the oven. A 15lb thing. We opened between 11am and 1pm. The usual faces. We took £140. Audrey worked and I relaxed my 'no staff drinks' ban. Large whiskies abounded. It was all a very pleasant atmosphere though. Will Christmas mean anything at all to me when I'm old and grey? I think we should love the magic of Christmas even when one has experienced it seventy or eighty times and not be cynical about it. We closed at 1 and went upstairs. A long, happy lunch with Ally, Dad and Samuel. The TV only went on at 3pm for The Queen. This year we saw no scenes of family life at Windsor with the royal kiddies, which was sad. But HM knows what she is doing, no doubt. We lounged and played. I hung Ally's amethyst earrings in a cracker on the tree and she didn't discover the gift until later. We put on records and danced to Wham and Boy George. Dad washed up. Sam to bed. TV at night. No tears or overwhelming sadness. Mum wouldn't have wanted that.

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